Erika meets Solomon
by Sophye
Summary: Our witty little human girl meets Solomon Van Kendrick after a... mishap at the library she works at. Completely laced with corny love-story worthy moments, this story might make you 'Awww' Out loud, so be careful. Rated T for kisses and lots of them.


Where IS that book? I could have sworn it was around here. . Aha! Found it. The little pest was just behind me. Smiling victoriously I reached up and saw that it was further up than I expected. I situated a chair and got it in a hurry, since the book was on a long waiting list and the client wanted it now.

I set the chair down and stood on it, reaching until I finally attained the book.

The extra weight of the thousand-page hard-back copy knocked me back, head-first, into a bookshelf. I grasped onto consciousness as the room got dangerously dark. My vision cleared and I noticed that I hadn't slammed into a bookshelf, but instead into a Man. Ah great, I must be imagining things, NO man could be stone-cold. Well, unless you counted Stephenie Meyer's type of guy, but that's FICTION.

NOT reality, Erika. Get a grip.

I coughed and tried to hide my embarrassment and slight blush as I craned my neck back to meet his intense gaze,

"Err …Sorry about that, I must have lost my balance" I quickly apologized and he helped me get up. I think he might have said something but the only sound I could hear was the frantic beating of my heart. I dropped my head and rushed out of the suddenly cold aisle of book shelves, just in time to meet the angered gaze of a customer that got tired of waiting.

After a long day at work, I staggered towards my car, glad to be in the comfortable seat of my black Volkswagen beetle. This has been my dream car, even customized with an Abingdon Boys School steering wheel cover, a FMA seat cover set, and last but not least, my Edward Cullen plush toy. Along with the main accessories were other random plush toys from other Animes I watched.

I know, I'm a total fan girl… but it's a lifestyle I adopted at an early age, and it's terribly hard to drop.

Through the day I found myself thinking back to that guy. He was very tall, and seemed strong, but not that bulky… there was something about his emerald-green eyes. His pupils were rather… feline-like? I don't know anymore.

I yelled out and frantically turned the steering wheel to avoid a car that was backing out of its driveway. Almost hitting another mailbox, I swerved my car and got back on the road again, only to stop momentarily on the curb to inspect some damage done to the paint job by my crazy driving. A bit of paint peeled off due to the mailbox's 'caress' across it. Fuming, I kicked a piece of dirt and coughed, since it went against the wind and it came into my eyes and mouth. Just at that moment I saw the same guy from the library sitting inside a car, across the street, doubled over in what seemed like pain in the driver's seat.

Wait-No… He's laughing.

Letting out a low growl I stepped back into my car and slammed the door shut. Ohh, I would love to caress his face like the mailbox did my car's door. But I better let some steam off before mom and my sister get back home. To the punching bag it is, that usually calms me down.

Down in the basement I turned the lights on. My gaze immediately fell upon my punching bag; it was a gift from dad before he kicked the sack. With a deep frown I put on my boxing gloves and started to unleash my frustration.

It seemed like ever since the accident, my whole world has fallen apart. First it was dad's strange death. Next, Mother had to go to therapy to cope with his death, and has been a bit anxious ever since.

Apparently God doesn't think I've been through enough and now he sends this guy.

"Why won't he just-" I stumbled backwards when the punching bag came back at my outstretched arm. Wincing in pain, I got up only to notice I sprained my wrist. Just great, I let out a growl yet again and kicked the punching bag, turning my back on it way too early. It bounced on the rope and came at my unguarded back, effectively knocking me down.

I can almost imagine that guy.

Laughing like there's no tomorrow.

Getting up off the floor, I wiped away the sweat from my face with a towel and drank some water before storming up the stairs, holding the already swollen and purple hand to my chest. Putting ice in a bag, I let out a low hiss and sat down on the couch, ice over, under, and around my wrist. Mom came by a couple of hours later.

Apparently, she thought it was broken. She all but kicked me out of the house in attempts to get me to the doctor. After a brief glaring match I gave up and let her drive me there.

Two hours later the doctor told us two things.

One.) I knocked my proximal row completely out of place.

Two.) Something's wrong with my mind, since I've missed out on hours of mind-wrenching pain.

Personally I think he's nuts.

My mother, on the other hand, personally thinks he's a genius. Whatever.

As he put my hand in a thick cast, I wondered how life as a lefty might be. My job at the library will definitely become tough… And once again, his perfect face filled my thoughts.

Why couldn't that god of all gods' face get out of my mind?

The doctor mistook my blushed face for a grimace of pain and injected sedatives into me, making his small office blur for a moment and then spin, a while later it was all black.

My hearing came back to me first. I heard my mother anxiously running around the house, cooking and ordering medicine over the phone. With my eyes screwed shut I took in a deep breath and noticed she was cooking Ñoques!

I opened my eyes and stood up in a hurry but paused as the room swerved around me, maybe because all the blood rushed out of my head. Once again I started towards the kitchen, but this time I stopped before I tipped over by an unexpected weight on my arm. Slowly it came back to me and I glanced down at the black cast that began at the tips of my fingers to my elbow. At least my mother hadn't asked him to dye it pink while I slept.

Mom noticed I was awake and helped me to the kitchen. I felt the urge to tell her it was my arm that was hurt, not my leg, but I held it in. It had been a while since she's taken so much care of me.

She helped me down and handed me a bowl of the chicken-soup with pasta-bits in it. My favorite!!

"Thanks mum." I said, carefully lifting the spoon to my mouth with my left hand. I sipped the soup happily and thought over something. By now mom would be bombarding me with questions about my love life, but her frown and hand's constant fidgeting told me something was off.

"Yes, mother?" I asked after the long, heavy silence that accompanied my late dinner. "You might explode if you keep the questions in." She looked at me apologetically and I regretted the tone that had come with my voice.

"I'm sorry honey, but there's this guy… and he called me about your hand. Is there something you wish to tell me?"

To be honest, I was flabbergasted.

A _person _called me? More importantly, a _boy_ called for a _hand_ _injury_ no one even knew about yet. Even so, I couldn't help but blush at the thought that it could be the mystery guy from the library.

My mother kept on looking at me, expecting an answer. I quickly regained my composure and looked at her.

"Dunno, I didn't call anyone and no guys are interested in me." I lied to her, this particular one was easy. Since I've repeated it so many times. Normally I just can't lie, but this one was _practiced_.

She stood up and nodded, accepting the lie as the truth. I felt bad lying to her, but it was necessary. She went to the door, getting ready to go to work, even if it was midnight. This was normal for her, almost routine. After being a NAVY seal and now being a CIA agent, mom's schedule was rather hectic.

She glanced back and waved 'Goodbye' before leaving the house, her face twisted in a mask of questions. She always wondered why guys weren't interested in me. In her opinion I am a pretty, responsible, hard-working, and sweet girl. She couldn't fathom why no guy asked me out. The truth was, almost every guy had tried to ask me out. I just avoided them. Sure, I might be 'hard working' but I am too lazy to even go through the rituals and get a boyfriend, and even more so to muster up an ounce of the romanticist that lays deep within me.

Maybe Jacqueline is right… maybe I _don't_ have a romantic bone in my body.

I mused about other words that she could have used to describe me. Useless, Irresponsible, Prone-to-spacing-out, Dreamer, Crazy, Odd. The list went on and I finished washing the dishes before there was mad knocking at the door.

A bit of my mother surfaced in me and I picked up a silver knife and, this part surprised even me, a clove of garlic. With the knife held tightly in my left hand and the clove of garlic nestled weakly in my casted palm, I braced myself for what could be knocking on my door at freaking one in the morning.

In the back of my mind I highly doubted that the clove of garlic and knife would do much against a fully-grown man. If there was even one there. If it had been that way, I don't think he'd knock.

I neared the door and opened it with the knife held behind me and the clove of garlic thrust forward.

Only then did I notice someone leaping at me and later wrapping their arms around me. The body felt cold to me but it wasn't the unnatural cold, but instead snow-cold.

"Oh, Erik! I was so worried when Linda called me and told me you visited her dad's hospital, "You okay?" my friend's familiar rushed tone made me sigh in relief and flinch at the nickname she always used for me.

"Its okay, Jacob, you don't have to worry." I led her inside and dropped the knife and garlic in the sunk. We used the male-versions of our names as nicknames. Been that way for ages now.

Jacqueline sat down and smiled, "Soooo, What did you break this time? Although it must have been a lot, since you went to the E.R… last time you broke your arm you just bandaged 

it." She gabbed on and on, I didn't mind though.

"Well, apparently… I knocked the 'proximal row' out of whack, so I got to stay in the cast for a while." I explained and sat down next to her, she paused for a minute. "Erika… That's a serious thing; you're going to have to remain in the cast for a long time, and even longer after for therapy… It's not really good."

I nodded; the severity of it was already explained to me. I might lose muscle mass and stuff.

"Yea, I know… but why are you here?" I asked, eyeing my friend, there had always been something about her… her hair was perfect; she always dyed it a different color and her eyes seemed to change a bit too. Something was… _magical_ about her.

She shrugged off the accusing tone in my voice and smiled, "I was worried about you… Anyways I better leave now, I snuck out and if my parents find out I'll be screwed." Jacob hugged me; she had gotten surprisingly warm for having been out of the snow for five minutes. A soothing and warm sensation came from her palm in my back and I was suddenly very sleepy. The next thing I knew, I was in my room, almost asleep and Jacqueline had left apparently. I just shrugged off the thought that occurred to me next. How could I not remember getting up here? I thought this shortly before I lost consciousness.


End file.
